


Memory and Mortality

by liminalumi



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Blood, Bodily Harm, Broken Bones, Caffeine Withdrawal, Can you tell?, Child Abuse, Dolores can sing, Electrocution, Gen, How Do I Tag, I still can’t believe that’s an actual tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knives, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Break, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Reginald Hargreeves’ A+ Parenting, Sibling Banter, Sparrow Academy Student Ben Hargreeves, The Sparrow Academy (Umbrella Academy), The original characters are just Sparrow Academy members, This was originally a Piano Man songfic, You heard me, and i’m bitter about it, because I haven’t read the comics yet, i’m calling bull, man drinks that much coffee and dosent have a caffeine addiction?, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminalumi/pseuds/liminalumi
Summary: Five gets himself into some pretty bad situations, but this one is definitely up there on the list.Or;The Umbrella Academy gets cornered. The Sparrows are good, but Five is desperate.
Relationships: Dolores/Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 157





	1. Capitulum I

Never let it be said that Five was selfish. Sure, he was brash, and arrogant, and generally unpleasant, but it wasn’t as though he didn’t _care_.

There were times, however, in which he realized just how much he did indeed care.

Unfortunately, it only ever seemed to come up at the most unideal of circumstances. His present situation sat firmly among those, and, looking at his idiot siblings, he made a choice.

It was an ambush, of course it was. He was so damn distracted by his quest to keep his family alive that he walked them right into a trap.

The Sparrow Academy, in all their mocking glory, blocked their path, and Five didn’t see a way out. This was strange, only in the fact that he didn’t often allow himself to be cornered so thoroughly. That was usually reserved for extenuating circumstances. Though, he supposed that this would probably fall under that label, if you asked any normal person.

In a rare moment of impulsivity, Five panicked, saw a route of escape, and acted accordingly.

His blinks always had a measure of calculation to them. His little stint in the apocalypse had ingrained a need to conserve energy into him; a gnawing, buzzing instinct in the back of his mind that screamed survival. This blink had none of that. It was all emotion, pure, unbridled fear, panic, desperation, concern, tearing into the fabric of space-time mercilessly. Normally, blinking was merely sliding into space, taking a step, and sliding out.

For the first time in his life, he understood why most people threw up after blinking.

His stomach churned, and he was reminded of the time he and Dolores had a tad too much wine— No. No, he had to focus.

The swish of air being displaced drew the Sparrows’ attention to him. It would seem that his blink had spit him out behind them, slightly to the left of his initial position.

His stomach wanted him to stop, to go back, to be in the right point in space, but the rush of adrenaline kept him from doing anything but attacking. He got one, a girl, square in the jaw, before Not-Ben made a move.

It was an awful sensation. He had always assumed that Ben’s eldritch horror would be wet, slimy, and warm, but he was met with the unpleasant sensation of cold, dry, sandpaper wrapping around his wrist.

Oh, _hell_ no.

He blinked, again, involuntarily, a few feet to the left of Not-Ben’s sandpaper-y appendage.

He heard his name called, it sounded like Vanya, or maybe Klaus?

He looked at his family, the ones who annoyed him so, the people that had gotten him through forty-five long years, the ones he would, and did, kill for. He looked at them, and he yelled.

Bless their naïve little hearts, they _listened_. They bolted past the Sparrows, who were distracted by Five himself, and straight out the door.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised. He honestly expected them to protest, to stay, to play the hero.

It would’ve hurt, if Five had had the time to process it. Somewhat fortunately, the cube (?) took that moment to ram itself against his shoulder. Which, okay, that threw him off a little. A cube? Attacking in a noticeable way? Preposterous.

Apparently, the cube’s laughable attack was just effective enough to get his guard down, and one of the guys got a hit in. A fist connected with his jaw, and the force knocked his scrawny, 13-year-old body backward.

He saw stars. Dozens of white dots, floating and fading around in his vision like the snow that covered the rotting carcasses he found.

Dolores. Where was Dolores? She always seemed so anxious when it snowed, despite never seeming to feel the cold.

She sang to him, sometimes, when food was scarce. He thought he heard her, so maybe he was hungry. That would explain the dull ache in his stomach, and the constant bursts of pain in his abdomen.

It wasn’t singing, it was ringing, in his ears. His vision cleared. He blinked behind his attacker, a stocky fellow, and kicked the back of his knees. Stocky fell, earning a disapproving glance from a few of his friends. Five squashed the flicker of em— _sympathy_ that welled up within him at the scene.

The Handler had looked at him like that, once, when he refused to kill a child. The events that followed weren’t pleasant to remember.

The downed opponent got up again, shaking off the glares of his fellows. They locked eyes, for a fraction of an instant, before Five blinked. Space parted around him, and it spat him out above Stocky.

He really should have been keeping track of the second girl. He glanced to the left and oh, there she was. A knife, no, a karambit poised to strike. He blinked, and it sliced through the space that was his throat.

He popped out near Not-Ben and barely had time to register the sandpapery horror reaching for him. He felt around for the tell-tale ripple in space. He found it, and then he pulled. Space pushed back, the blue light pulsing around his hands flickered and died as the horror caught him in the chest. It was worse than when Luther sparred with him, when they were kids.

God, Luther. Did he get away? Five had no way of knowing, so he could only hope that the brute was safe.

He didn’t see any new splotches of red in his vision, so that meant he was relatively alright, all things considered.

Sand wrapped around him, and squeezed. It was not unlike that time a building collapsed on him.

Dust, everywhere, filling his lungs and invading his nose, clogging his ears and blocking his vision and—

And suddenly the pressure on his lungs let up, and the sandpaper slithered away, and he crumpled to the ground. Good. Better to let them believe he was down.

As a general rule, Five respected his father’s advice, but there was one tactic of Sir Reginald’s that he considered utter bullshit: Fight with dignity.

Yeah, no. Five didn’t really do the whole “fair fight” thing. So, when his knees hit the ground, he went limp, his eyes rolled up into his skull, and the Sparrows dropped their guard.

He heard a set of steady footfalls, and he fought the instinct to attack. He needed to wait.

A clink of chains and the growl of zip-ties filled the air. Zip-ties. God, he hated those accursed plastic strips. They always reminded him of escape “training” with dear old Dad.

There was a hand on his wrist, ready to cuff him. Letting muscle memory guide him, he reversed the hold, gripping onto the wrist in question. A number of shocked voices filled the air.

“He’s still up?!”

“Fuck!”

Five blacked out for a few seconds, the adrenaline was finally becoming useful, and the next thing he knew, the kid was down and he was on his feet. The poor bastard looked just like the kid he’d killed on the Vietnam job.

He looked up, at the remaining opponents. Seven of them, including the kid currently groaning on the ground.

Katz.

Not-Ben.

Karambit.

And Stocky made four.

Wait. Four?

“Fuck.”

He blinked, out the door, and spotted the other three, grappling with Allison, Klaus, and a number of very angry ghosts. Allison opened her mouth, the intent to rumor clear in her eyes. Unfortunately for her, Five was trying to buy them time to escape, not attempting to split the opponents between them.

Blinking onto the middle attacker’s shoulders, he grabbed the arms of those to his sides, and _tore_.

Yeah, space didn’t really appreciate that, and it tore right back at him. It spat the group out with fury, right into Not-Ben and his cronies.

His head splitting, his ears ringing, his stomach churning, Five pulled himself to his feet. Evidently, the Sparrows were not as quick to recover. Something dripped from his nose, so he wiped it.

His fingers came away red.

This was not an unusual development, but it did mean that his blinks would need to be limited for a while. Well, Five never was all that great at taking the recommended course of action, was he?

Blink.

Stocky gained a new bruise.

Blink.

Katz was the unfortunate recipient of a cheap nose-job.

Blink.

Not-Ben’s face was acquainted with a wall.

Blink—

Krambit got him in the hip.

He responded by snapping her arm.

She screamed. It reminded him far too much of his days as an assassin.

He was surrounded by seven very disgruntled Sparrow Academy members. Good. That meant they weren’t going after his family.

“Your move.”

A smirk graced Five’s features, and he _laughed_.

Katz’s face screwed up in confusion. Karambit glared, silently promising death. Stocky recoiled, slightly. Not-Ben just sighed.

Five locked eyes with Not-Ben, as a hand fell onto his shoulder from behind. Five grabbed ahold of it and twisted, effectively flipping his assailant. They landed flat on their back.

Not-Ben wrapped a tentacle around his arm, the sandpapery texture apparent even through his blazer. The appendage tightened, and jerked. Five felt a wet popping sensation in his shoulder, and his arm went numb.

Not good. It didn’t let go, instead, it dragged him across the room, slamming him into a wall.

His world went dark for an instant, before he felt the impact of a second appendage wrapping around his leg. They started pulling, in opposite directions, and Five yelled the first thing he could think of, in the only language he’d read it in.

The Sparrows froze. Not-Ben dropped Five.

This time, he stayed upright, but barely. He swayed slightly, catching his breath. Five didn’t even see Karambit until she was right beside him, a needle in hand. She managed to get it into his neck before he kicked at her injured arm.

His siblings had definitely gotten away by then, and he had undoubtedly piqued the Sparrows’ interest.

He supposed that was it, then, and the world faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t lie, I wrote this for a friend of mine. It was never meant to see the light of day, but here we are.


	2. Capitulum II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben asks some questions. The Sparrows discuss recent developments.

Ben Hargreeves was an inquisitive person. Or, he would’ve been, in another life. 

This Ben had learned long ago to keep his mouth shut.

It had been an innocent question.

Actually, it really wasn’t, but it was asked with no intent of malice.

“What happened to numbers one through six?”

Reginald had hit Ben with his cane,  _hard_. He still had the scar.

So he stopped asking.

When his siblings’ personal training lasted longer than a few days, he kept his head down.

When Eight was comatose for a week, he waited quietly for them to awaken.

When Dad disappeared for a month, he didn’t even think to question it.

Which was why, when six adults and one teenager appeared in the mansion, he didn’t expect to get an answer.

“Dad? Who the hell are these assholes?”

Surprise surprise, father dearest brushed off the question in the moment, and proceeded to completely ignore the fact that it had ever been asked.

So Ben didn’t bring it up.

He didn’t question it when the Academy was sent after the intruders.

He didn’t question it when he learned they had powers.

But then the kid said something that threw them all off.

And Ben did something he hadn’t in a long time.

“Dad?”

“Is this about the body staining my carpets?”

“He’s, uh, still alive?”

“How unfortunate, given that I  _ explicitly stated _ that I wanted them dead.”

“He quoted Holmer.”

“That hardly seems reason not to kill him.”

“In Ancient Greek.”

“Your point being?

“How many people do you know that read  The Oddessy in Ancient Greek, before they turned thirteen?”

“I suggest you speed this along, Number 7, before I lose patience.”

“Fine, then. Who is he?”

“Someone of no importance.”

“Bullshit.”

Only then did Dad look up from his notes.

“Excuse me?”

“You sent all seven of us after him and his merry little band. That’s not ‘of no importance.’”

“Are you certain you wish to push this issue?”

Ben thought it over, and,  _no_ , he really  _didn’t_. But it was a little late to back down.

“ _Yes_. ”

He almost regretted asking. The answers were worth the bruises, though, so he supposed he got something out of the endeavor.

The problem? Dad’s request:

“Recruit the kid.”

Ben, lip swollen and bleeding, stared at him in disbelief.

“Recruit the kid?”

“Did I misspeak?”

“No. No, it’s just... you wanted this guy dead _literally_ two hours ago.”

“I did.”

“I don’t think he’s going to be too keen on joining the Academy.”

“He isn’t.”

He sighed, because there was no point in arguing.

———

Asa was usually the one to patch people up after sparring sessions. Lilith could be a little... rough, at times, given her powers. They were near opposites, Asa and Lili, one cursed to ensure the weary, the other to aid them.

In short, they had become great at healing karambit wounds. Blood, on the other hand, was a different story.

The kid wasn’t looking good. No, not good at all. Too much blood lost. Asa looked over at the infirmary’s other occupant.

“He needs a transfusion.”

“I need a cast.”

They sighed.

“I hate to say it, but this is just a tad more pressing.”

“Fine.” She huffed, but offered her good arm anyway. 

It was quiet for a while, save for the steady beep of a heart monitor and the labored breaths of the kid.

It was nice. 

“Wonder what’s up with him.”

Ah. Moment ruined, as usual.

“You know,  _ I  _ like the quiet.”

“ _ I _ like keeping my blood in my body.”

“I’m sure he does, too. Not that you care much.”

“Oh, shove it, _Ass_ -a.”

“Demon Queen.”

“Plebeian.”

“Hetero.”

“Okay, that one was uncalled for.”

“You called me a  _plebeian_. ”

“It’s an accurate description.”

Asa tightened her bandage a little too much at that.

“Ow! Fine! I’m  _sorry_. ” 

“Apology accepted. Now, what were you saying?”

“I was wondering why Dad wants that kid dead.” 

“Actually, Ben told me he wants to recruit him.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” They said, popping the “p.”

The kid mumbled something, interrupting their banter. The pair leaned forward slightly, ears trained.

He seemed distressed, and kept muttering a name.

Lilith broke the half-silence.

“Dolores?” 

“A sibling, maybe?”

“If you ever mutter my name in your sleep, I’ll peel your eyeballs.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. Even  I  know your name is cursed.”

“Really?” She said, unimpressed.

“You _threatened_ me! With grievous bodily harm!”

———

Of all his siblings, Kristopher liked Vienna the most. She seemed to understand that a non-human will not act like a human would. He appreciated that. It made him feel less alone in the world. 

Yes. He enjoyed her presence, even if she preferred to talk to rodents.

“He’s young.”

“He is.”

“He teleports.”

“He does.”

“He speaks Greek.”

“ Ancient  Greek,” she corrected.

“Ancient Greek,” He repeated.

“You’ve taken an interest in him, I see.”

“He’s abnormal. Like us.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “like us.”

———

“‘Prep the guest room.’ They said, ‘It’ll be fun!’ They said.”

“Are you gonna keep whining, or are you going to help?”

“Dunno. I’m good here.” 

“Great. _Real_ helpful.”

“I try.”

Kane was seated on the ceiling of Cell Number Five, watching Aaren scrub the week-old blood stains off the floor with mild interest.

“You missed a spot.”

“Clean it up, then.”

“You know, I’ll pass.”

“Wonderful. Got anymore comments in that noggin of yours?”

“Plenty. But you’re not smart enough to understand them.”

“Careful there, I think the blood’s going to your head.”

———

It was in times like these that Reginald missed Grace. 

“Times like these” being when he remembered the existence of the Umbrella Academy. 

They took her from him, so he’d resigned to tear them apart, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this was never going to stay a oneshot. Not when I can write sibling banter.  
> Speaking of the siblings, yes, I do pick favorites. You’ll be hard-pressed to guess them, though. That is a challenge, by the way.  
> As for my posting schedule.... it’s gonna be wonky. That’s all I can say.


	3. Capitulum III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five is not having a good time, Diego is mad, and the Umbrellas are worried.

When Five came to, he wanted coffee.

Well, more accurately, if the shake in his hands was anything to go off of, he needed it.

Yeah, that could be a problem.

It hadn’t been that long, had it, two, three, hours? 

No, that wasn’t right.

It was at the motel, the day prior? 

It was definitely at the motel. 

He would’ve calculated the hours, but he couldn’t think through the pounding in his head, or the cold sluggishness in his limbs.

His hands were still shaking.

God, he really wanted some coffee.

He opened his eyes and the world was  so bright . It was all sharp angles and harsh white lights.

Shutting his them, he began to assess the situation.

Touch; he was strapped to a chair with—

—with fucking  _zip-ties_.

Wonderful.

On a more positive note, however, someone had cleaned the wound on his hip, since he couldn’t feel any blood, dried or not.

Sight; no. Not yet. Sight was too painful.

Scent; metallic, stale air and—

Yep, that was blood.

Sound; the steady thrum of a boiler, he must be in a basement, and voices.

Voices?

A soft, cautious conversation went on in the other room. Seeing as Five was strapped down, it was probably about him. 

There was the creak of a door being opened, footsteps, and the door was shut once more.

“You awake?”

“You got any coffee?”

“Dad’s not big on caffeine.”

Great. Perfect. Fan- _ fucking _ -tastic.

“Then no.”

“Cool. Gimme a hot second.”

More footsteps, first away from him, the toward him, before there was the sharp prick of a needle entering his arm.

Five jerked away, because The Handler always pulled shit like this, and he did  not  want to deal with that today.

There was a hand on his arm, then, keeping him still, but it was gentle, which was odd, because  _ she  _ wasn’t gentle, not even with her faux-affectionate touches.

“It’s alright, kiddo, it’s just to keep you calm.”

“I am  not  a child.”

“Sure, buddy, sure.”

His reply was cut off by the feeling of the drug, syrupy-sweet and thick, entering his bloodstream. In an, admittedly very brief, instant, it all clicked into place, and his eyes shot open.

“You’re trying to keep me from blinking.”

Katz’s smile was sad. Apologetic. 

“Not just trying.”

And then that moment of clarity was gone.

He spent the next few (minutes? hours? days?) eternities in a drugged stupor, fading in and out of consciousness. The only constant was the pain in his head, pulsing in time with the tremors in his hands.

In his waking moments, he was able to make out some snippets of conversation:

“—convince—“

“—isn’t going to—“

“—shaking?”

Shit.  _Shit_.  Was it that noticeable?

He rescinded his earlier statement; it  would  be a problem. It was probably a result of whatever drugs they were pumping him full of.

That was a definite possibility. Whatever it was, though, it did not bode well for someone in captivity.

Darkness. Ash. Death. And then—

More conversation. 

“Lili—“

“—really? You—“

“—asked—“

Lili? None of the Sparrows seemed like a Lili. What was he thinking about? He was tired. He wanted to sleep. Sleep was bad. 

Why was sleep bad?

He found out shortly after.

The Apocalypse was cold. It always was, since the beginning, but the ash clouds blocked out the sun and chilled the earth.

It was snowing. The winds were strong, and it hadn’t rained in weeks. A blizzard was on it’s way. He couldn’t find a coat. He climbed a mountain of rubble dotted with dark umbrellas. A stone came free, he slipped, cut his hand. 

Tear a strip of cloth. Wrap the wound. Keep going.

He got to the top, looked down;

_Bodies_.

Piles, upon piles, of corpses, all of them familiar. His siblings, his victims, his regrets, laid out before him.

Blood, everywhere, his hands, his hair, his mouth.

He woke with a strangled scream, drenched in a cold sweat.

“Morning, little one.”

“Call me that again and I’ll juice your  _ fucking  _ spleen.”

A chuckle.

“That’s a new one. Lili’s got some competition.”

Five opened an eye, solely to glare at the voice’s owner. They were one of the people that went after Allison and Klaus. The one he flipped, actually. Hands still shaking, he reached for the folds of space.

Nothing happened.

Damn it. 

“What do you want.”

Flip looked thoughtful. 

“Is that ‘you,’ as in ‘vous,’ or ‘you,’ as in ‘tu?’”

It was Five’s turn to look thoughtful.

“Both.”

“Ah, well, you’ll have to ask the others about what they want. I’m just here to check your wound.”

“If I see a syringe, I will kill you.”

“You’re a friendly little fellow, aren’t you?”

“Get it over with, will you?”

He let them check his side without much protest. It was  _ not  _ because it was becoming painful again. It was  _ not  _ because he was already fighting a migraine.  _Not at all_.

It was just easier. To let them be. It wasn’t a bad decision, after all. They waved a hand over the gash, and the pain subsided to that of a light bruise. 

“Healing?”

“Of a sort, yes.”

“Ah.”

They left shortly afterward, leaving Five painfully alone.

— — —

Diego was  _seething_. The little bastard did it again. Went missing, left them alone. He was going to _kill_ him.

Okay, he’s not going to  actually  kill him, but sure was going to beat his ass.

A knife landed in the headboard, a few inches from Allison’s head. She looked at it, sighed, and went back to the newspaper she was pouring over.

“Do you mind?” She asked, but there wasn’t any real annoyance in the question. She just sounded... tired.

“He said he’d be here.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be back sometime.” Vanya assured, and Klaus nodded.

“It’s like a math problem: Sixteen plus three equals nineteen, so he’ll look twenty when he comes back in forty years.”

“Klaus, that makes no sense.”

“Oh, so when  _ Five _ does complicated math he’s “ _ smart _ ,” and “ _ mature _ ,” but when  _ I  _ do it—“

———

Katz drugged him again. 

Being awake was awful, but sleeping was worse. He needed to get back to the motel, back to his family. If his hands would just stop  shaking, he might’ve been able to do something about the zip-ties. 

It was pointless. That didn’t stop him from tugging at his restrains; it didn’t stop him from trying to blink. He kept trying long after his wrists were raw and his nose ran red.

It hurt. It hurt so  _ much _ . Every attempt made is head pound and his insides churn. But if he couldn’t get back to them, if he couldn’t be there to protect them, then what was the point? 

Karambit came to see him. Her arm was in a sling, which almost made him smile.

“You’re awake.”

“Very astute.” 

She pulled up a chair (where did that come from? Was it always there?) and took a seat. 

“I’ve got a proposition.”

Five thought it over. Yeah, no.

“I’ll pass.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say?”

“Oh, I don’t care.”

“That’s understandable—“

“Glad we agree.”

“—but it’s not really a choice.” 

“I’m saying ‘no,’ am I not? That seems like a choice.”

She inhaled. She looked up. She exhaled. She closed her eyes, then opened them and leveled her gaze at him once more.

“Let me put this more simply: Join the Sparrow Academy.”

Five had been Rumored before. They were always gentle suggestions. Ones that seemed to come from within his own mind. They were impossible to resist, because they felt like something you would do. They felt right.

This was not a suggestion. 

Karambit’s words were brutal. They were cruel. They felt _wrong._

This was a command _._

And it hit Five like a freight train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did research for this?? What???  
> Next chapter is gonna be wild, lemme tell you.


	4. Capitulum IIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith has a headache, his name is Five.

Five hadn’t been rumored in years. He didn’t miss it.It always made his head feel fuzzy and muffled. At the time, it wasn’t horrible, because his life didn’t necessarily depend upon his mental aptitude. 

But after decades of uncertainty, of instability in his life, his mind had become the one thing he could depend on. 

Now, he couldn’t even be sure of that.

———

If looks could kill, Lilith would be six feet under. 

Actually, she would have ceased to exist ages ago. 

The kid hadn’t said a word to her since their conversation in Cell Number 5. She didn’t know which was worse: the silence, or the steely glares he was always shooting her. 

He hated her. She didn’t blame him. She hated herself sometimes too. 

Asa, on the other hand, had endeared themself to the little shit. She wasn’t surprised.

That didn’t mean she liked him. 

His constant straining against her command was giving her a headache. 

She poured some willpower into her ability and  squeezed .

The tension went slack and her headache eased. 

———

It was like a dream. Or a nightmare.

He was a mere observer, and he knew it. Hell, he was certain that the only reason he was able to  _ think  _ was fifty years of pure  _spite_.

And _god_ ,  did it  _hurt_.

———

“I recruited him.”

“On the contrary, Number Seven, it was Number Nine who recruited him.”

“By my request.”

“And my order.”

“Fine, it was Lilith’s doing.”

Dad did not look impressed.

“I am aware. Have him fitted for a uniform and a cot brought into Cell Number Five.”

“You’re... not going to give him a room?”

“I am not. Dismissed.”

The conversation was over; staying in the office would only lead to pain.

Ben closed the door on his way out. 

Kane was sitting on the wall in the hallway. He wasn’t even trying to hide his eavesdropping.

Ben sighed, “I thought you would’ve learned your lesson after last time.”

Kane just smiled wider.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

———

“Vienna, have the kid fitted.”

She looked up from her conversation with Squeaks.

“Do it yourself.” 

“I have other stuff to do.”

“Ask Asa.”

“‘Do it yourself.’”

“Choke.” 

“Go.”

She stood up and let Squeaks sit on her shoulder. Ben looked satisfied and went on his way.

“ _Humans are such strange creatures_.”

“Very strange indeed.”

She made her way to Asa’s room and stood in the doorway.

“Hey, Vienna. Did you need something?”

“Ben,” she stuck a thumb toward the wall behind her, “wants me to fit the kid for a uniform.” 

They turned toward her, skirt swirling around their knees.

“You said no.”

“I’m in the middle of a meeting.” She gestured to Squeaks.

“Fine.” 

———

They found the kid in the dining room. Lilith was lurking nearby, but it looked like she had at least given him the coffee he wanted. Asa slid into the seat across from him. They stuck out their arm for a handshake.

“Asa, they/them, unless I specify otherwise.”

The kid’s eyes flicked to Lilith and narrowed. She returned the glare, and he took their outstretched hand.

“...Five. He/him.”

His grip was firm; steady. It wasn’t that of a thirteen year old.

“Nice to meet you. You need a uniform, so it’s fitting time.” 

“I would rather be decapitated.”

“That can be arranged.” Lilith cut in, stepping forward.

“Hey, play nice. Both of you. There will be no decapitation today.”

They just glared at each other. Asa sighed.

“Look, buddy, I hate to do this to you—“

“Bullshit.”

“—but you can either do this my way, or Lilith’s.”

Five looked like he was genuinely contemplating the options for a moment.

“Fine.” 

“Cool—“

“But I reserve the right to complain.”

“You know what, I can work with that.”

———

Allison’s brows were furrowed. There was nothing important in the papers, and still no word from Five. 

“Klaus, have you been able to conjure him?”

“If he were dead, I wouldn’t need to conjure him.”

“That’s good, right?” Luther asked.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“He’s not. But Five is alive, because I’m going to end him.” Diego stated.

“That’s not how that works.” Allison shot. 

“It is now.”

———

Five really didn’t know what to do with Asa. They were... tolerable.

He hated Lilith, but he appreciated the coffee. 

He elected not to think to much about it.

Speaking of thinking, it was becoming easier. Slightly easier. He just had to play along for a little while. 

“Skirts or shorts?”

“Either.”

“Cool. You’re done.”

Five would have responded, but was very rudely cut off by Lilith.

“Finally. His room’s ready.”

“Great.” 

It was actually just the cell from earlier, with a cot someone had dragged in situated in the corner. 

Still better than the Apocalypse. 

Five flopped onto the flimsy mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Tried to come up with a plan.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very exiting chapter, I’ll admit, but we’re getting there.


	5. Capitulum V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions are made, information is gained.

Five didn’t sleep that night. 

Most of his time he spent tracing invisible equations on the walls with his fingertips. 

He barely noticed when they started showing up in bold crimson.

Something hit the mattress behind him with a  thump.

Five looked up and over at the sound. A trunk sat innocently atop the cot; Stocky stood impatiently beside the door.

“That was fast.”

“Dad wants you dressed and upstairs.” 

“I’ll be up in five. Tell him for me, will you?”

He grumbled about it, but in the end, he nodded and left.

Five turned his attention back to the trunk. It was a quarter the size of the cot and made of a dark brown wood. Did Dad just have this sitting around? He honestly wouldn’t be surprised. He opened the trunk and, _holy shit_ , that was  _fast_. Eight uniforms were nestled within, four feminine and four masculine. 

He would forever deny the small flutter of emotion he felt as he reached for the former.

Exactly two minutes and thirty-five seconds later, Five stood in the main hall of the Hargreeves Mansion. 

It was like a bad case of deja vu. Throughout his years at the Academy, he’d taken that same route before his personal training. Hell, he was half-convinced that was what Dad wanted him for.

That was, until Katz came to stand beside him.

“You coming to breakfast?”

———

It was tense. Aaren was by no means the most observant of the group, but it would take an idiot not to notice. 

Asa had (very kindly) offered their seat to the kid, who had accepted. The problem with this arrangement was that Lilith now sat across from him. With those two locked in a glaring-contest, the other six of them were caught in the murderous silence. 

There was good news: These days, Dad took breakfast in his office. 

Asa glanced at Vienna, Vienna looked at Kris, Kris turned to Kane, Kane’s gaze fell on Ben, and Ben gestured for Aaren to break the silence. 

Well, hell. 

“So,”

This broke the glare-off, as both of the participants turned their attention to Aaren instead. 

“...introductions?” He offered. 

No one objected, so he continued.

“We‘ll go counter-clockwise, then.” 

He took the undisturbed silence as a yes.

“O-kay! I’m Number 11, Aaren.”

“Vienna, Number 13.”

“My name is Number 12, I am also known as Kristopher The Cube.”

“Lilith.”

“You’re supposed to say your number.” Aaren said.

“Nein.” 

“Close enough, who’s next?” 

“Ben Hargreeves. I’m Number 7.”

At the name, Aaren noticed a small flicker of recognition, and of confusion, in the kid.

“Seven?”

“Yeah.”

“Are there others?”

Aaren’s siblings exchanged looks. None of them had ever actually gotten a helpful answer from Dad. Ben ignored them.

“Not that we’ve ever met.” 

The kid let out a laugh. Aaren was reminded of the sheer desperation he displayed before they captured him. It was just as unsettling as it was then. 

“The old man really did unadopt us, huh?” 

There was a pause, followed by a moment of silence, before the table erupted.

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

“Unadopt you?”

“Explain.”

“‘ _ Us _ _?_ ’”

“The old man did  _ what _ _?_ ”

The kid waved his hand dismissively. 

“I’m Number 5, Number Five Hargreeves.”

“Wait, you didn’t pick a name?” 

“Really, Asa,  that’s  your question?”

“I don’t know, I thought his parents were weird or something!”

“If you consider ‘eccentric billionaire’ and ‘robot’ to be weird, then you’re not entirely wrong.”

“ _ Robot?! _ ”

Number Five shrugged.

“Seven kept killing our nannies.”

They all looked at Ben in mild horror. He was only supposed to kill enemies.

“Not him, my sister. Vanya.” 

Aaren took a breath. 

“Okay, _please_ explain.”

“What’s there to explain? Dad met his fuckups of children back in the sixties and decided not to adopt them come 1989.

Like the recorded laughter in a bad sitcom, the table erupted again.

“The _sixties?!_ ”

“ Child _ren?!_ There’s  _ more _ _?_ ”

“‘Decided not to adopt them?!’”

“What the hell?”

“Bullshit.”

Five sighed. He looked far too tired for someone so young. 

“Uh,” Asa began, “quick question: He met you in the sixties? As in, the 1960s?”

“1963, to be exact.” 

Lilith let out a little snort and rolled her eyes.

“C’mon guys, kid’s bullshitting us.” 

The kid in question looked ready to stab her with a fork.

He did just that.

A metallic clang rang out as one of Lilith’s karambits caught the fork. They had a small stand-off. 

“Sit.” Lilith said. 

Five sat. He didn’t look happy about it.

No one moved. No one spoke. Somehow, it was worse.

A few minutes later, Asa leaned over and ‘whispered’ to Aaren.

“I think they’re pouting.”

“I can  _ hear  _ you, you idiot.”

“Witch.”

“Heathen.”

“Cockroach.” 

To the siblings, who had endured many an Asa-Lilithian squabble, this was easy to ignore. For Five, who was caught between the two, it must have been distressing.

———

It was enduring. No, really. It was like Luther and Diego, only with actual braincells. 

_ Luther and Diego.  _ His brothers. His family. He wasn’t a Sparrow; he didn’t belong here.

Fuck braincells, he wanted his imbecilic siblings back.

His chair scraped across the tile floor. He didn’t bother to push it back in.

If anyone noticed his untouched plate, they never said a word.

———

“I’m going to the Academy.”

“No. We should wait for Five.”

Allison sighed. She loved her brothers, she really did, but sometimes they were insufferable.

“He’s not coming back.”

“You can’t just blindly run into danger.” Vanya said. 

“She’s right. We got away twice, we can’t be sure of a third escape.” 

———

Asa found Five in his cell. At some point, he must have gotten coffee, because there were three empty mugs scattered throughout the space. The walls were marred with red writing. It looked like blood.

“Someone’s been busy.”

Five spun around, one hand holding a coffee, the other, a marker.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point, I see. Dad wants to see you in his office at six tonight.” 

“I take it we’re not going to be having a friendly chat?”

Asa smiled sadly.

“I’m afraid not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, the problem with me and OCs is that they develop personalities? Without my permission? So now I just, have seven Umbrella Academy characters? How did this even happen? I’m growing attached? Is this allowed??


	6. Capitulum VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The not-so-calm before the storm.

Asa was...well, Asa was worried. The nature of their powers meant that personal training brought more exhaustion than pain, and Dad rarely forced them to their full extent. They were fairly certain that Five would not be so lucky.

Still, going against Dad was a death wish, so they prepped the infirmary instead. 

———

Five was... well, Five was  _ not  _ worried. Eventually training blurred together, he just had to calm down. 

His chest constricted.

Calm down.

There was ash. Caking his skin, invading his lungs; it was everywhere.

Calm  _ down. _

He felt like a fucking  child ; small and helpless before his father. He hated it. Fuck, he couldn’t  _ breathe. _

_ Five, dear, you’re panicking. _

Dolores. The pressure in his lungs eased, if only a fraction. Dolores was _safe._

_ You need to breathe. In, out.  _

It was hard. She knew that, but she meant well. He tried for her. 

His first gulps of air were shuddering at first, borderline painful. She rambled, keeping his mind occupied while he breathed. 

“Thank you, Dolores.”

———

Kane would never understand why his siblings were so content to stay ‘upright.’ It seemed so limiting. 

Maybe it was just because they hadn’t experienced gravity the way he had. Or maybe they were right, and the blood had gone to his head a time too many. 

Regardless, he much preferred to walk on ceilings and walls than the floor. They were so much more interesting. Curved, carved, painted, you name it. He stayed in the ceiling more than any other surface.

It was funny, really. Everyone (save for Five) knew of his abilities. They must not of thought highly of him, because they often had their ‘private’ conversations right in front of him. Often without knowing. If they’d only look up, they would notice him.

But they never did, and, like a traveler gaining passport stamps, he collected their secrets.

Secrets he’d gladly give to his father in exchange for freedom. 

Kane knew that Ben had caught on to his eavesdropping. And he was right. Kane did lots of that. But poor Benny-Boy still thought that he was spying on  Dad.

And Kane was perfectly happy to let him believe that.

He was walking along a wall when he heard the sounds of blatant distress from Cell 5. Looking forward to the delightful bits of information, Kane switched to the ceiling and poked his head in.

Five, if memory served (and it always did), looked  _ terrible _ _._ The poor kid was tucked into a corner of the room, shaking. 

Kane was  _ not  _ prepared for this shit.

“Thank you, Dolores.” He mumbled out.

Dolores.

Dolores?

Where had he heard that name before? 

Oh, right. The infirmary. Asa and Lilith heard the kid mutter it, in his sleep. Then they started arguing, as usual.

Well, this is the second time (that he knew of) that the kid had said ‘Dolores’ while in distress, so she must have been important to him.

“You’re welcome.”

———

It was stupid. He was being _stupid._ Forty eight  _ fucking  _ years, and the  _ thought _ of a personal training session with his father was enough to send him spiraling. He was fucking _pathetic._

As always, Dolores was there to bring him back to reality.

“You’re welcome.”

“You put up with so much of my shit, you know that?”

“I’m not ‘putting up’ with it.”

It wasn’t her usual answer, but it still held that gentle tone.

“I should be over this already.”

“You don’t have to be.”

She was right. She was  _ always  _ right. He said as much.

“You’re right. I’m exaggerating. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Is there something specific that you’re worried about?”

Prying was rare for Dolores, but he indulged her.

“I- Electricity. It’s stupid, I know. He probably doesn’t even  have  that fucking collar.”

“He... oh,  _ shit. _ ”

Something was wrong. Dolores didn’t curse. Five snapped his eyes open. 

There, hanging from the doorframe, was Kane.

———

Five looked like a deer in headlights. An electric collar? What the  fuck ...

...would Dad give him for that little tidbit? Definitely something big. A car? No. Too obvious. Maybe a new TV. Or a bus pass. 

Oh, yeah. He could work with this. 

“Don’t worry, buddy. Your secret’s safe with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh, I WAS going to tell you about the time my DnD party blew up a planet... but then I wrote the last half of this chapter. It would be in poor taste. Perhaps next time.


	7. Capitulum VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not a fun time.

Dad left Ben in charge while he went ‘out to fetch some things.’

Ben didn’t question it.

When he came back with some suspicious objects, Ben didn’t question it.

When he had the training room prepared, Ben didn’t question it.

He should have.

———

Frank Smith was inconsequential. 

Meaningless.

He had no children, no lover, and no family. He went to work at the canning factory, died a little inside, then came home.

There was no real passion within him. He was merely a boat of reeds, drifting along the fast-flowing rapids of life.

He had no talents, and no one cared to give him a passing glance. He did what he could for the war effort, for that was what was expected of him. 

His actions held no sway over the world. His life was snuffed out without fanfare. 

So why, of all the people the Commission had ordered him to kill, did his thoughts stay to Frank Smith? 

Perhaps it was the way he carried himself. Perhaps it was because he had bought Five coffee. Or perhaps it was simply because he was inconsequential. 

He supposed that if innocent people existed, Frank Smith would be among them.

Officially, his death was categorized as a freak electrical accident. A result of the new lighting installed in the factory he worked at. 

That job was hard for Five. He could almost sympathize; Powerful jolting shocks resonating throughout one’s body. He could almost  feel  it. That was the difference between sympathy and empathy, right? Knowing and understanding; pity and solidarity. It was odd, because Five fell into the latter category. Why? Why was he familiar with that sensation? And why did a rolling nausea round on his stomach with every pulse of pain? 

His eyes snapped open. His taste buds were— unfortunately— reacquainted with the contents of his stomach, a handful of sugar cubes.

Another shock ran through him, and suddenly, he was everywhere. And nowhere. Blink after blink after blink, it was tearing him apart. Every cell in his body screamed for him, it, the jumps, to just  _stop_.

He screamed along with them.

It did end, as much as it seemed as though it wouldn’t. A steady stream of blood dripped from his nose. As if to taunt him, the throbbing in his neck only served to worsen the aftershocks. Exhausted and tottering, he pushed off the doorframe and headed for his cot.

He made it all of two steps before collapsing.

———

It occurred to her that she should have been concerned. 

The only emotion that the kid’s prone form instilled in her was fear. Not for him, but for herself. The char marks marring the delicate skin of his throat were more than enough incentive for her to choose a side. 

Faced with the reality of the consequences of antagonizing her father, Lilith resolved to never let herself fall out of his favor.

———

“He’s absolutely lost it, Lili!”

Asa was pacing, something they only did when panicked. 

“As, there’s nothing we can do.”

They stopped dead in their tracks, and turned to look at her.

“‘Nothing we can do?’” Good god, Lili wasn’t bothered. _“_ ‘ _ Nothing we can do?!’” _

“You  really want to go against  Dad ? Really?! You think you can  _ win _ _?!_ ”

“Look what he did to Five!” Asa yelled, gesturing to the person in question.

“Would you have preferred it to be one of us?”

“No, Lili. But we can’t be sure it won’t be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, part one of That Time My DnD Party Destroyed A Planet:  
> Okay, so, one of our players (we’ll call him Roland) created this magic item. It was basically an infinite teapot. Well, this teapot showed up in every single game.   
> Then our DM cursed it.


End file.
